Draven: Did the Chancellor send you? Well horseman, I've beaten death once, and I can do it again.
Death: I have no idea what you're talking about.
Draven: Of course not. You still reek of hope. You couldn't have met the Chancellor.
Death: A chancellor doesn't sound like much.
Draven: For ages, his tongue has dripped venom into the Dead King's ears. He all but sits upon the Eternal Throne, demanding service!
Death: Who are you?
Draven: I am the Master of Blades, and all that remains of the warrior once called Draven from the Kingdom of Man. I should have passed through the World of Souls, long ago, but I won my freedom in the Arena, only to fall beneath the Dead King's whip.
Guard: No one disturbs the Lord of Bones without say of his Chancellor.
Chancellor: A rider? In the Kingdom of the Dead? No, no. This will never do!
Death: I must speak with the Lord of Bones.
Chancellor: Oh, that is not possible. My lord attends his realm. A burden beyond even your care, Horseman.
Death: And what is your use, a doorstop?
Chancellor: There is but one way to draw him from his slumber. The Gilded Arena. Here, mortals are offered a last chance to earn freedom from the grave, a boon that includes an audience with the king. Defeat the Arena's Champion, and return here with it's skull. His Majesty will grant you an audience.
Death: And where is this arena?
Chancellor: Fret not, Horseman. We have already arrived.
Death: Let me speak to the Lord of Bones, and I will spare your champion, and perhaps you as well, Chancellor.
Chancellor: You cannot slay that which is already dead, but you're welcome to try in the Arena.
Death: Forget what I said about sparing you, doorkeeper. Tell me about the King of the Dead.
Chancellor: His reign is eternal. His word is law, and his time is invaluable. I am sure he need only speak with those who are worthy.
Death: Then you must rarely see him, Chancellor. What does Achidna have to do with your kingdom? Last I heard, she had one of her own.
Chancellor: The Shadow Realm. Ysilik, yes, where the Sisters Sightless spin their webs. Many of my Lord's foes escaped there, when his rule was still young. We hunted them down. Mordina herself barely escaped. Perhaps she took shelter here, and yet weaves her evil...
Death: Your king is not the first to rule here, is he Chancellor?
Chancellor: There was another. A creature called Argul, too mad to be kept upon the throne. I helped my Lord be rid of him, and even destroyed a few of his servants. Tsk-tsk. What would my Lord do without me? Do take care in the arena, Horseman. Should anything happen to you, I'm not sure if I could live with myself.
Merchant: I have wares aplenty, if you have coins to spare.
Death: How did you get here?
Merchant: A merchant knows many roads. Not all of them are shared with Horsemen.
Death: You know where to find me.
Arena Guardian: Behold, a challenger enters the arena.
Arena Guardian two: But what does he seek, absolution from death?
Arena Guardian three: No! This one yet lives.
Arena Guardian: Quiet! He would tell us his cause. Speak challenger.
Death: I'm here to defeat your champion.
Arena Guardian two: And so all challengers boast, but most leave in torment.
Arena Guardian three: Their souls burned from existence, and our champion all the stronger for it.
Death: Enough! Bring out your champion.
Arena Guardian: Ah, yes. There is power in this one, power enough to do as he claims.
Arena Guardian two: But our champion is no cur to be summoned at will, you must draw him forth.
Arena Guardian three: This altar holds his power, the souls of all he has slain and consumed.
Arena Guardian: Three Animus Stones must be placed therein, and our champion will arise.